


About Bloody Time

by WriterOfManyColours



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Advent Calander, Christmas, Christmas at the Holmes' House, Crack, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Holmes Brothers, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mycroft and Greg team up, Mycroft's Meddling, Protective Mycroft, Sherlock and Mycroft care about each other, Slow Burn, Text Messages, a lil bit of angst, i apologise for the crap summary i swear the story is better, mystrade, neither John or Sherlock realise the other likes them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:37:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8446099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterOfManyColours/pseuds/WriterOfManyColours
Summary: The advent calendar thing was just supposed to be a bit of fun. But when you add a meddling older brother, papa Lestrade, an undeniable connection and, of course, Christmas spirit, you might find yourself surprised at what can happen in just a short month...





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> So this is story was originally posted, unedited and basically rubbish, on my old account a year or two ago as a secret santa present (I cant remember who so I'm so sorry to that person). Hopefully, its improved now though!  
> I'll talk at the end about how regularly I'll be posting chapters but until then, I hope you enjoy!

|/~#~\| _Some time in November_ |/~#~\|

 

"Advent calendars are boring."

John looked up from his newspaper with a frown.

"How can you say that? Did you never have one as a kid?"

Sherlock sighed and fell onto the sofa with a soft 'poof'.

"Of course I did, John. But unlike you, I've grown up from an immature child."

He crossed his arms and turned around on the sofa, his back was facing John.

Stroppy toddler, John thought fondly as he watched his flatmate.

"It was just an idea, seen as there was no case and I thought you could have something to look forward to each day," John said with a shrug, ignoring Sherlock's huff and returning to his newspaper.

"I need a case!" Sherlock mumbled into a cushion, sensing John's focus was on something other than him.

"Why have the murderers suddenly become so dull?"

"Maybe they're feeling festive," John said unsympathetically, not even looking up from his reading.

"That's illogical, John. You'd be able to spot that if you weren't so mentally incompetent. Surely, being murderers, feeling festive would mean they'd kill more, not less."

John didn't answer.

"And even if 'feeling festive' meant they killed less, it's still November. Only idiots feel festive this early."

Still no reply.

"John."

Silence.

"John?" he called, louder this time in the hopes of getting John's attention.

Nothing.

Sherlock flipped over again so he was sitting up and facing John. Sherlock narrowed his eyes when he saw his flatmates focus was not on him but his phone. He was about to move when he spotted John's tongue dart out and lick his bottom lip as he concentrated on typing out a text.

He paused, enraptured by the tiny movement and confused as to why it was making his heart steadily beat faster.

_What are you doing?_

Sherlock shook his head minutely, breaking himself out of whatever trance he'd been in, and looked around for something that would grab John's attention.

He saw John's gun resting on top of the table. That would certainly get his attention.

He stood up and moved towards the gun.

"Don't even think about it."

Sherlock looked at John's stern face before rolling his eyes and pouting.

"But I'm bored!"

"Then go do the shopping-and buy an advent calendar while you're at it."

"John, I will not _go shopping_ and I'm certainly not going to buy an advent calendar. Why on earth would I want chocolate or pictures? Sometimes I wonder about you, Jo-"

"Then why don't we make it different?" John suggested, choosing to ignore the blatant rudeness.

Sherlock looked up suspiciously.

"Every day of December, I'll give you something you actually want, leading up to Christmas. Obviously, I won't be able buy a present each time, we can't afford it, but it doesn't mean you won't enjoy them. How about it?"

Sherlock looked at John again and found his heart beating faster like before. Sherlock's eyes scanned over John's feature; his little frown, the small smile, the kind sparkle that seemed to continually dance in his eyes.

John was similarly lost in the swirling spirals of greens and blues in Sherlock's eyes, glittering with something John couldn't quite work out.

Suddenly coming to himself, John blinked a few times and looked away, breaking them both out of their hypnosis.

"Yes, okay," Sherlock said quickly, before rushing to his bedroom to search through his mind palace.

John stayed seated, blinking in confusion. An idea niggled at the back of his mind as he thought back to gazing into Sherlock's eyes and the weightless sensation that followed. He could have sworn it felt like..

_No, of course not, don't be ridiculous. You're not gay._

Huffing a humourless laugh, he started to muse on what he could give to Sherlock.


	2. 1st of December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock recieves John's first advent gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Can't wait to finally start posting chapters regularly after waiting all November, so I hope you like it!

Sherlock threw his hands in the air, huffing sharply in irritation. He had searched in his mind palace for hours, trying to find a reason to explain why his heart suddenly beat faster every time he was in the vicinity of John and his glistening blue eyes. So far, he couldn't link it to anything he'd felt in the past. Maybe if he dug deeper...

"Sherlock!" called from the living room.

"Yes?" he replied sharply, fingers digging into his temple.

"Keep your knickers on, I was just going to give you your first present,"

"For the last time, John, I'm not some snot nosed child that's interested in-"

"-It's my sketch book from when I was a kid," the voice interrupted.

Sherlock's head perked up in interest. He, for a reason unknown to both him and John, wanted to know as much about John's childhood as possible. Something about the fact that his flat mate had a life before him interested Sherlock to no end.

He made his way slowly towards John and found the doctor flicking through a battered old book. He looked up as he entered the room and greeted his flatmate with a small smile.

"I've had this book since I was five so, for god's sake, be careful."

The book was passed over with deliberate care. Sherlock took the book, handling it delicately, his brow creased with lines as he frowned with concentration. Slowly, he sat down and felt the texture of the cover, his finger tracing the creases carved into it through years of use. After a while, he opened the book, listening to the soft creak of the spine. He was immediately met with bright colour, each page littered with doodles and sketches.

"I didn't know you drew," Sherlock said mildly.

John smirked.

"The great Sherlock Holmes didn't know something? I'm in shock."

Sherlock threw him a exasperated look before returning his gaze to the sketch book. He flicked through the pages, noticing that the themes John drew changed throughout the book. First came offensive doodles of teachers, then sketches of animals and people. They gradually changed to things like landscapes and wildlife before, finally, Afghanistan.

Sherlock continued to flick through the drawings of guns and smiling soldiers. Intrigue rose in him as he got closer to what he estimated was the time period they had met. He flicked through the last pages and spotted that several of them had been ripped out. Interesting.

"Where are the last pages?" He asked curiously, eyes fixed on John, trying to decipher his reaction.

John opened his mouth but his words came out muddled and flustered.

"What last pages? There are no last pages. I-I mean, other than those last pages that are there."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed but he dropped it, not wanting to make his flatmate uncomfortable. 

"Thank you, John," said Sherlock, truly meaning it. He watched as John’s shoulder sagged with relief.

"Yeah well, it's nothing special," John said awkwardly before escaping to the kitchen.

Sherlock smiled as he watched him go. Maybe this whole advent thing wasn't a bad idea after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good? Bad? Please leave a kudos/comment to let me know how I've done and how I can improve. The next chapter is slightly shorter but will be coming soon, in two days. Thanks for you patience and I'll see you next time!  
> Sophie xx


	3. 3rd of December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter this time, hope you enjoy! Next chapter will be posted on the 6th :D  
> Sophie xx

Sherlock stormed into 221B with a thunderous scowl, followed by a sighing John.

"Why would those bumbling idiots call me in for something as obvious as that? Is my genius destined to be forever wasted on the simplest crimes of the century?"

He slammed the door to illustrate his point.

"Sherlock, be nice," scolded John, easing of his coat.

"Nice? Why on earth should I be nice the those blithering imbeciles? And Anderson seems twice as annoying as normal-"

"Be nice or I won't give you today’s present."

Sherlock turned to him slowly, curiosity painted on his features.

"What is it?"

John smiled, fished a box out from his jacket and handed it to Sherlock, who looked from the box to his smirking flatmate, a thin line appearing between his eyebrows as he frowned. Finally, after a long pause, he opened it to find a number of glass slides containing different samples of blood and bacteria. 

A child-like grin lit up the face that has been so glum just moments before.

"These are the samples I wanted from St Barts. The ones Molly wouldn't let me have because she thought it was unhealthy."

John nodded and brought a finger to his lips

"Make sure you don't tell anybody," he said in a hushed voice before winking and walking to his bedroom.

Hours later, while brushing his teeth, he realised what he'd done and nearly choked on his toothbrush. Did he really just _wink_ at Sherlock Holmes?

John shook his head. It had been a long day.


	4. 6th of December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter guys! Hope you like it :D  
> Sophie xx

Sitting by his microscope, Sherlock hummed his latest violin composition. His deep voice serenaded the flat, so deep it sounded almost like a growl. 

A soft smile appeared on John’s face as he heard the song, enjoying his flatmate’s rare good mood. He’d woken up that morning to find a mug of tea by his bedside and an even more astounding phenomenon; a complete lack of disaster. 

There was no smashed glass, no repugnant smells, no suspicious looking stains. There wasn’t an amputated limb in sight. The Christmas spirit seemed to have made its way to 221B and John was not complaining.

His eyes were drawn back to Sherlock as he stretched over the table to reach for one of the samples John had given him a few days ago. His purple shirt tightened as he leant over, revealing the lean body hidden beneath. Long, slim fingers gripped around the sample as his black locks fell gracefully, framing his face, the curls making John want to drive his fingers throug-WOAH, there. He really should go to bed earlier.

John took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Alright, Sherlock. Present time."

Sherlock turned so quickly John was surprised he didn't get whiplash.

"Oh, so you like advent calendars now? I could have sworn you said-"

"Don't be smart, John. It doesn't suit you," he sneered. His eyes darting up and down John’s body, an obvious indication of the deduction taking place in that incredible head of his.

John raised his eyebrows.

"Well, if you're going to be like that.." he said, turning round.

Sherlock's eyes widened in alarm and he opened his mouth to begin a stuttering apology. John was tempted to let him continue.

"I was only joking, idiot," he said fondly before pulling out a rolled up poster.

John looked at Sherlock sternly as he unrolled the gift.

"Now, before you start sulking, you need to let me explain why I've chosen this for you."

That didn't stop the outraged cry once Sherlock saw the poster's content.

Printed on the offending poster were detailed diagrams of star constellations and planets.

John glared.

"What did I say?"

With an eye roll, Sherlock fell silent

"Have you ever been star gazing?"

He shook his head, the curls bobbing slightly.

John cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. Why was he nervous?

_C'mon, Watson, get it together._

"Well, I thought it would be a good idea to go stargazing. In a week. With you. And me."

Sherlock seemed to consider for a moment.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes, okay. I suppose it could be interesting. I assume you've given me this to learn from?"

John just nodded, something unknown clogging up his throat and ringing his cheeks scarlet.

Sherlock took the poster and walked into his room with a small smile on his face. John blushing made something in his chest flutter. He pinned the poster up in his room, his mind reflecting on the adorable image of an embarrassed John. Wait, what? Adorable? What was he, a teenage girl?

Sherlock scrunched up his nose in disgust, trying and failing to banish the image of the scarlet hue that stained John’s cheeks from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will be posted on the 10th :)  
> Sophie xx


	5. 10th of December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John go star gazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I really hope you like the next chapter!  
> Sophie xx  
> P.S. Sherlock trailer just came out and I'm dead inside

Though he would never admit it to John, Sherlock was enjoying the advent calendar arrangement rather a lot.

Over the past week he'd received a variety of interesting and useful gifts. From science equipment to John's childhood stories to a new scarf; every gift left him grinning like a child. But the biggest joy came from the fact John knew. He knew what Sherlock liked and what he wanted. He had paid attention to him and Sherlock enjoyed that thought as much as all the gifts combined.

However, today's gift was the most highly anticipated by far. Today, John was taking him stargazing. Usually he would hate this kind of boring, pointless activity but the thought of spending time alone with John sent shivers of excitement tingling down his spine and butterflies of anxiety fluttering in the pit of his stomach. Why just a simple little thought had such an effect, he had no clue.

"Okay, Sherlock, are you ready?" John asked, sliding on his coat.

Sherlock nodded enthusiastically and rolled his eyes at the millennia it was taking for John to get out the door.

They drove for about three hours until they reached a spot free from London’s dark clouds of smoke and polluted city smells. By the time they arrived, it was already dark.

The car had been a present from Mycroft who had smirked knowingly when they'd told him of their plans. John, unaware that Mycroft had been teasing Sherlock mercilessly over his 'boyfriend' for the past year, thanked him for the car. Sherlock, on the other hand, had suddenly felt rather hot and glared poisoned daggers at his brother. 

He didn't have a crush on John. He couldn't have a crush on John.. Crushes were for hormonal teenagers. No, the idea was preposterous.

"Have you learnt anything from the poster I gave you?" sounded John’s voice, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Of course," Sherlock lied. He’d actually been hoping the doctor would teach him what he needed to know instead.

John stared at him, an eyebrow raised dubiously.

"Well, if you say so," he said as he got out the car.

Sherlock took a breath to calm his nerves-wait, nerves? Why was he nervous?

Shaking his head, he searched the car for a water bottle to moisten his dry throat. He opened the front compartment which, to his relief, contained water. It also contained a bottle of lube and a packet of condoms.

_Oh, Mycroft was going to wish he'd never been born._

Sherlock slammed the compartment shut and took a long gulp of the water.

"Come on, Sherlock, you're missing the stars!"

Sherlock refrained from reminding him the stars weren't going anywhere before emptying the entire bottle and stepping out of the car.

He turned his head to look for John, when he spotted him half sitting, half lying down on one side of a blanket, the other side presumably saved for him.

John looked towards him and Sherlock's heart began racing. Moonlight reflected off his eyes and danced around the pupils, illuminating the deep, ocean blue of his iris’. His sitting position and choice of clothing showed off of his slim yet compact army build as if his body were designed to set off a spark of excitement in Sherlock's brain. John smiled softly, inviting Sherlock to sit down and, oh god, he wanted to. Every line, every wrinkle, every god damn hair looked perfect and Sherlock could feel himself falling.

_Oh no._

He had a crush. A rather big crush, going from the intensity of the sensation unfurling in the pit of Sherlock's gut.

"Sherlock, are you okay?"

John looked at him, frowning, lines of concern appearing on his forehead. He tensed as if about to get up.

Sherlock simply nodded, not trusting his voice, and willed his feet forward towards the blanket. After a long moment he sat stiffly, back straight as a board.

The doctor looked at him from the corner of his eye.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sherlock?"

"Yes, I'm fine, John. Stop asking," Sherlock snapped.

"Okay."

They sat in an awkward silence for a minute, both stealing looks at each other until remembering they were supposed to be watching the stars instead.

"What's that?" queried Sherlock, pointing at a star.

John, relieved he didn't have to break the silence, explained what the star was called and offered some information about it.

"And what about that?"

They continued like that for an hour, Sherlock asking questions and John answering them. It was in the middle of one of John's explanations that he realised how close they were sitting.

They were both resting on a hand, leaning towards each other, their shoulders almost touching. Sherlock turned his head to watch John and flushed when he realised just how close their lips were. His location was not an ideal place to be considering his new found.. Sentiments regarding the man beside him. He needed time to think, not watch John's temptingly perfect lips just inches away from his own.

As if on queue, John turned to Sherlock. If the small gap between them hadn't been obvious before, it certainly was now. John's eyes widened and he gulped loudly. Sherlock held his breath, waiting for something to happen.

What he didn't expect to happen was the gap between them get steadily smaller as they leaned in. John's eyes flicked to his lips, before returning them back to Sherlock's.

_Dear lord, were they going to-_

The Nokia phone chime rang from the car, shattering the moment like glass. John jumped up, his face bright red.

"I-er sh-should go.. Um, yeah," he stammered before hurrying to the car.

Sherlock watched him go miserably, horror blooming in his chest.

Of course he wouldn't want this. God, he was such an idiot.

Sherlock closed his eyes and felt like sobbing. He'd only figured out he had feelings for John an hour ago and he'd already messed it up. Like a failure. Like a freak. How utterly pathetic.

"We should, er, get going," John told Sherlock, looking at the floor while scratching the back of his head.

Sherlock picked up the blanket, shoved it in the car boot and sat in his seat without a word. John started the engine and they drove back to 221B in deafening silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Last chapter didn't really get any feedback so please let me know if it's okay or if there is stuff you're not really liking. Next chapter will be posted on the 13th :)  
> Sophie xx


	6. 13th of December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter. It's a little shorter than the last chapter but I really hope you enjoy it :D  
> Sophie xx

Awkward was an understatement.

It had been a few days since the incident had occurred and they still hadn't talked about it. They'd talked about other things, of course. That was unavoidable, being flatmates. And John still continued with the present giving.

But there was always an uncomfortable undertone lurking behind their meaningless small talk. Both knew what had nearly happened and both were avoiding it like the plague.

John was fine with the arrangement, being the emotionally constipated coward that he is.

He just needed time, John reasoned with himself. He needed time to figure out what to say and how to turn Sherlock down gently.

I mean, he didn't want this to continue, did he? 

No, sir. 

Not a chance. 

Not at all. 

John Watson was 100% _not gay._

So why was there sparks of excitement and thrill and joy fizzling in his brain at the very thought of Sherlock? He'd looked so painfully perfect there, half his body cast in the gleaming light of the moon. The stars were nothing compared to the ones that had shone in Sherlock's eyes that night, so tantalisingly close to his...

But he wasn't gay or anything. Nope. Anyone would have thought Sherlock looked good out there. Didn't mean he was gay.

And even if he was, it's not like Sherlock actually returned the feelings. He didn't feel things like that. It was probably just an experiment to see how he would react. That's all it was.

But that doesn't matter. He's not gay.

Sherlock broke John out of his internal denial, slouching on the sofa admiring today's gift. It was a photo of John and his family when he must have been around five. The side of Sherlock's mouth quirked up at the image of John putting two fingers behind his sister’s head. An amused twinkle glinted in his eyes, making him look young and mischievous from behind his mop of curly locks. Long, thin fingers curled round the sides of the photo, his quick, sea-green eyes picking out every detail and filing it away.

The excited spark fizzled in his chest again and a weightless sensation overcame him.

_Okay_ , maybe he had a small crush. A tiny, harmless, unimportant crush.

Didn't mean he was gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really hope you enjoyed reading. Next chapter will be posted on the 16th of December :)  
> Sophie xx


	7. 16th of December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hope you're still alive after all the new Sherlock content coming up :P  
> Enjoy the next chapter!  
> Sophie xx

A deafening crash from the kitchen woke John up from his peaceful slumber. 

_Really, was a lie in too much to ask for?_

John stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eye, when he was greeted by Sherlock standing precariously on a chair holding out a teacup from the tea set John's father gave him last Christmas.

"Sherlock," John mumbled sleepily, "what are you doing?"

"Dropping teacups," he said without looking at John.

"What? Why are you dropping tea cups?"

"To see how far the fragments travel."

John jumped as another crash sounded.

"Yes, I can see that. But why?" said John, irritation creeping into his voice.

"It's an experiment. It's what I do when I'm bored and my violin bow is broken."

He glared at John pointedly like the lack of violin bow was his fault. Even Sherlock recognised that was unfair; John had warned him not to brandish it like a sword at Mycroft.

But how was he supposed to know he would retaliate with his umbrella? He had to admit, his brother's fencing skills were rather impressive...

To his surprise John smiled softly, broken tea cups forgotten.

"Well then, I guess it's time for the next calendar gift!"

John ignored Sherlock's eye roll and headed towards the sofa. From behind the sofa he pulled out a long thin package.

"John?"

"I thought you could use this after your last one broke," John smiled.

Sherlock let out a small laugh of delight and hurried off to go find his violin, leaving John to grin and appreciate his flatmate's arse. Realising what he was doing, he averted his gaze just as Sherlock turned around, beaming.

"So yeah, have fun with that," John mumbled as he hurried off.

He retreated so hastily he failed to notice the grin slip from Sherlock's face and the violin fall limply in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I really hope you enjoyed :)  
> The next chapter will be posted on the 19th and we get to meet Mycroft in it :) I can't wait for you guys to read it   
> Sophie xx


	8. 19th of December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's plan begins to take place and Sherlock's feeling a bit ill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Really excited to add Mycroft and Greg into the story so I hope you enjoy!  
> Sophie xx

Mycroft sighed as he watched the camera footage of Sherlock and his doctor dancing round each other in an endless circle of secret looks and excruciating self-pity sessions.

Picking up his phone, he texted the only person he knew could help; Inspector Lestrade.

_Sent to: Inspector Lestrade_  
_I need your assistance. It involves Operation Johnlock._  
_MH_

**Message from: Inspector Lestrade  
you need my help??? hang on, let me screen shot that :D**

Mycroft rolled his eyes but could not help the small smile that slipped on to his face.

_Sent to: Inspector Lestrade_  
_This is a matter of importance. Both of them have, obviously, realised where their affections lie but are choosing not to act on them._  
_MH_

**Message from: Inspector Lestrade  
and what are we gonna do about that?**

Mycroft rolled his eyes at the blatant stupidity.

_Sent to: Inspector Lestrade_  
_We need to nudge them in the correct direction._  
_MH_

**Message from: Inspector Lestrade  
how?!?!**

_Sent to: Inspector Lestrade_  
_Leave that to me. Are you participating or not, Inspector?_  
_MH_

**Message from: Inspector Lestrade**  
**call me greg**  
**and yeah alright :)**

Mycroft smiled with satisfaction. His plan was coming together nicely.

_Sent to: Gregory_  
_Good._  
_MH_

**Message from: Gregory  
:)**

**|/#~#\|**

"Sherlock?" John called outside of Sherlock's door, "Can I come in?"

There was no answer.

"Okay, I'm coming in, so if you're doing something you shouldn't be, stop."

John cracked the door open, expecting the worse.

What he didn't expect to find was Sherlock lying in bed with his cover up to his chin, surrounded by scrunched up tissues.

John raised his eyebrows.

"What?" Sherlock replied with a nasally voice.

"I've never seen you ill before."

Sherlock scowled at him. He opened his mouth to say something, when his eyes widened with panic. He just raised his hands to his face in time before a massive

"ACHOOO!"

John smiled, causing Sherlock to scowl even more.

"I'm guessing it's time for your next present, then?"

Sherlock's face lit up immediately.

John stood up and left the room for a brief minute before returning with a small package that was quickly snatched away. It was as if an excited child had taken over the detective's body, tearing at the wrapping paper like a man possessed. John paused once Sherlock had managed to get through the wrapping, waiting for a response.

His flatmate gazed at his gift with a confused delight.

Sitting in the palm of his hand was a small, fluffy, cuddly bee.

He looked up at John inquisitively, wanting a reason for the gift.

"I texted Mycroft before. Said you liked them as a kid-" John explained, cut of by Sherlock sneezing loudly.

"Okay mister, I think it's time for you to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

John pulled the covers back over Sherlock and tucked him in. As he leaned back he paused over his flatmate, overwhelmingly tempted to lean down and kiss him gently on the forehead.

_No. Stop. He wouldn't want you to. He had looked so unhappy after the near kiss._

John leapt away from Sherlock, disgusted with himself.

"Goodnight," he said sharply, slamming the door shut, leaving Sherlock staring sadly at the door.

John was disgusted by him. Ha! And he'd thought, just for a second, that John had actually leaned in too! Obviously a fabricated version, the ridiculous concoction of a desperate brain.

Sherlock turned over, clutching the small bee tightly to his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading and I'd love if you'd leave a comment/kudos to let me know what you think!  
> The next chapter will be posted on the 22nd :)  
> Thanks for reading <3  
> Sophie xx


	9. 22nd of December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft does some more meddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! In this chapter there is some texting so I'll just make a little key so you know who's who.  
> Mycroft: In italics  
> Mummy Holmes: In italics and bold  
> Sherlock: got ******* above and below his text  
> John: got ~#~#~#~#~ above and below his text  
> Greg: In bold  
> So, with that done, I really hope you enjoy the chapter! We're nearly at the end now, only 3 chapter to go :(  
> Sophie xx

_Sent to: Mummy_  
Mummy, may I ask something?  
MH 

_**Message from: Mummy  
What is it? Should I be worried?** _

_Sent to: Mummy_  
Of course not. I was simply going to ask if I may return home for Christmas.  
MH 

_**Message from: Mummy  
I am extremely worried. What are you up to?** _

_Sent to: Mummy_  
Have you no faith in your eldest, most responsible child?  
MH 

_**Message from: Mummy  
Of course I do, Mykie. But why now? You never come up for Christmas.** _

_Sent to: Mummy_  
It's Mycroft.  
And that is a fact I very much regret, which is why I'm asking.  
MH 

_**Message from: Mummy  
Yes dear, of course you can come up. It will be lovely seeing you again!** _

_Sent to: Mummy_  
Excellent. I'll invite Sherlock too.  
MH 

_**Message from: Mummy  
Okay, young man, what are you planning?** _

_**Message from: Mummy  
Mykie?** _

_**Missed call from: Mummy** _

_**Missed call from: Mummy** _

_**Message from: Mummy  
James Mycroft Peter Holmes, pick up your phone this instant.** _

_**Missed call from: Mummy** _

_Sent to: Sherly_  
Mummy wants us to come up for Christmas.  
MH 

**********************************  
Message from: Sherly  
Why on earth does she want that?  
SH  
**********************************

_Sent to: Sherly_  
I have no idea. Something about ‘appreciating those you love’.  
Do try to attend. And bring John.  
MH 

******************************************************   
Message from: Sherly  
I shall do no such thing. Do you remember last time?  
SH  
******************************************************

_Sent to: Sherly_  
I don't want to go either, Sherlock, but she's adamant that we both attend.  
MH 

*******************************************   
Message from: Sherly  
Well tell her I'd rather eat my own kidneys.  
SH  
*******************************************

_Sent to: Sherly_  
Don't be so childish, Sherlock. She'll be so disappointed.  
MH 

*****************************************   
Message from: Sherly  
What a shame. Send her my condolences.  
SH  
*****************************************

_Sent to: Sherly's Boyfriend_  
John, my mother has invited you and Sherlock over for Christmas.  
She would very much like you to say yes.  
MH 

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#   
Message from: Sherly's Boyfriend  
I would love to!!!  
~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~# 

_Sent to: Sherly's Boyfriend_  
Marvelous! However, there is a problem; Sherlock doesn't want to go.  
MH 

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#  
Message from: Sherly's Boyfriend  
Stubborn idiot!!! Don't worry, I'll make sure he'll go :)  
~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#

_Sent to: Sherly's Boyfriend_  
Thank you, John. I appreciate it.  
MH 

_Sent to: Gregory_  
You are invited to join me, Sherlock, John and my parents for Christmas.  
I would appreciate it if you attended. I, unfortunately, need help with Operation Johnlock.  
MH 

**Message from: Gregory  
dont pretend the only reason you want me there is john and sherlock ;)**

_Sent to: Gregory_  
See you there.  
MH 

|/~#~\|

John had chosen to tackle this after he'd given his present, this time a new magnifying glass. Sherlock knew what he was going to ask a second before he opened his mouth.

"Why don't you want to go to your parents house for Christmas?"

_Dammit, Mycroft._

"Many reasons," Sherlock replied, unhelpfully.

"Do you mind elaborating?" asked John, getting slightly irritated.

"Yes."

John sighed and crossed his arms.

"If you can't come up with a good reason, we're going."

Sherlock inwardly groaned. He knew he didn't have a good enough reason.

It's not that he doesn't like his parents. He just can't stand all the chatter. All the questions.

_Found a girlfriend yet? Been on any dates? When am I going to get some grandchildren, hmm?_

"Then it's settled. We're going," John said when Sherlock didn't reply.

Sherlock groaned, out loud this time.

_Wonderful. Just wonderful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Be sure to let me know if your opinion :)   
> Next chapter will be posted on the 24th :D  
> Until next time <3  
> Sophie xx


	10. 24th of December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's plan continues to run smoothly. Sherlock and John might disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve!  
> I really really hope you enjoy reading <3  
> As always, info about posting schedual will be at the end.  
> Sophie xx

Sherlock had been incredibly irritated already but the black car pulling up outside 221b was the tipping point.

"What do you want?" Sherlock growled the moment Mycroft stepped into his flat.

"Nice to see you too, brother dearest," Mycroft replied, grimacing in what Sherlock assumed was supposed to be a smile.

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply with something that would really shut Mycroft up when John interrupted him.

"Oh, hello Mycroft," he said with a nod.

Mycroft smiled pleasantly.

"Doctor Watson," he acknowledged.

"Why are you here?" John asked curiously, leaning against his chair.

"Mummy has invited you to spend the night at her house and, if you would be so kind as to accept, we can drive there right now."

Sherlock's head shot up in horror.

"We shall do no such thing-"

"Of course we'd love to come," John interrupted, sending Sherlock a pointed glare.

"Thank you, John," Mycroft said, smirking at Sherlock.

"Though I've not packed anything," said John, looking at the washing basket behind him.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll have that arranged. The car is waiting outside, it will take you to Mother's house,” Mycroft said, looking between a stern John and a fuming Sherlock before adding, “I'll wait for you to...get ready."

He left right before the argument started though he could still hear it through the door. Mycroft shook his head, a smile on his face. John would win, again, forwarding his plan nicely.

His phone buzzing distracted him from his thoughts. He sat inside the car before looking at it.

**Message from: Gregory  
your mum is ok with me coming right?**

Mycroft smirked.

_Sent to: Gregory_  
Of course she is. Do you know what you're going to say to convince John?  
MH 

**Message from: Gregory**  
good :)  
and yep i'll have him confessing his undying love in no time :) 

_Sent to: Gregory_  
Excellent. I'll have a car come and collect you.  
MH 

_**Message from: Mummy  
Mykie, is it just you, Sherlock and John coming?** _

_Sent to: Mummy_  
Yes, Mother. Only three of us.  
MH 

_**Message from: Mummy  
Ah, that's good, otherwise someone would have had to share!** _

_Sent to: Mummy_  
Yes, that would have been dreadful.  
MH 

He put his phone away just before Sherlock stomped up to the car, climbed in and slammed the door. John followed soon after.

Sherlock turned to Mycroft angrily.

"What the hell are you planning?"

Mycroft regarded his brother sadly. He really was doing this for his baby brother. He was tired of seeing his brother hurt by people and he deserved to be loved by someone other than his watchful older brother.

Sherlock saw Mycroft's expression and something in his eyes softened.

"Sherlock, do you trust me?"

"You know I do."

Contrary to popular belief, Sherlock and Mycroft did in fact love each other. Sherlock was one of the most important people in Mycroft's life and vise versa.

"Then trust me with this. "

Sherlock looked at his brother for a second, eyes searching. Then he nodded slightly and sat back in his chair, gazing silently out the window. John looked between them, bewildered.

Mycroft leant forward to speak to the driver, sparking the rumble of the engine and the start of the journey. 

**|/~#~\|**

When they arrived, they were met with an angry mother, a confused father and a smiling Lestrade.

"Mycroft Holmes, you have got some explaining to do!" she glared as John and Sherlock greeted Greg.

"Yes, mother?" Mycroft said innocently

"I thought you said only John, Sherlock and you were coming! And, no offence to our guest," she directed a smile at Greg before turning angrily back to Mycroft, "What is he doing here?"

Everyone stared at Mycroft.

"Apologies, Mother. Inviting Inspector Lestrade, here-"

"-Call me Greg-"

"-Inviting Gregory here was rather last minute and it must have slipped my mind to tell you."

Greg looked up, confused, but Mycroft sent him a look that made it perfectly clear he didn’t have anything to add.

"Well, although we would love Inspector Le-Greg to stay, we simply don't have enough beds!"

Mycroft smiled.

"Oh, that doesn't matter, John and Sherlock can share."

Sherlock and John's heads shot up

"They don't mind, they're friends after all. Aren't you, John?" Mycroft said, a victorious glint in his eye.

"Y-yes, that's fine," John stammered.

Sherlock seemed speechless.

"Well then, that's all sorted. Now, can we go inside? It's rather cold."

Mycroft looked at Sherlock pointedly, a reminder of what he said in the car, before heading inside.

**|/~#~\|**

John made his way upstairs, dreading the looming night. He was about to enter ‘their’ bedroom for the night. 

_Their_. He was going to share a bed. With his best friend. The best friend who he had a tiny little crush on.

_Bloody brilliant_ he thought, shaking his head.

Sherlock was thinking the exact same thing as he got ready in the bathroom. He needed to have a serious word with Mycroft.

He loved and trusted his big brother, even if jumping into a volcano seemed more tempting than admitting it, but this was too far.

Playing _matchmaker?_

_Really, Mycroft?_

It was obvious John didn't like him in that way. He practically runs away when they make eye contact.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the bedroom, schooling his features into a calm, almost bored expression. He climbed into bed and attempted to get comfortable when John walked in.

They met each others startled gaze for a brief second before looking away, both blushing. John got ready quickly and was soon in bed.

Sherlock switched off the lamp without being asked, casting them into darkness. Both lay there on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the urge to curl up around each other.

John wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms round his flat mate. To tuck his head under his chin, kiss his lips, work his fingers through his hair. To completely circle him in a protective hold, making sure he was his and no one else's.

John swallowed. He might have a bit more than a little crush.

Sherlock felt almost drawn to John as if he were being pulled towards him with a giant, invisible magnet. His heart beat rocketed as John brushed against him when turning over.

"Sorry!" John apologised hastily, voice cracking.

"I-it's fine," Sherlock stammered in reply and then they were cast back into an awkward silence.

God, this was going to be a _long_ night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading! Please please please leave me a sign of what you thought. I'm happy to recieve any feeback as I want to get better at writing :D  
> Next chapter will be posted tomorrow, Christmas day :) I warn you, its a long one.   
> Until next time, my lovelies <3  
> Sophie xx


	11. 25th of December

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas day is better than anyone could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS!  
> Here's basically the final chapter, only a prologue after this. I really hope you enjoy <333  
> Sophie xx

Mycroft walked up the stairs, mind sifting through a hundred different scenarios.

Would he find him little brother sulking, John having left in the night? Would he walk through the door to find them arguing? Would they hate each other? 

Maybe they had enjoyed it.. Would he find them happy, having realised their feelings, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes? 

Or, perhaps, he’d find something worse... He may want Sherlock and John together but that was not something he _ever_ wanted to walk in on.

Mycroft finally got to a large, wooden door leading to their bedroom and paused, listening carefully but heard nothing. He placed a careful hand on the door and pushed it gently, easing it open. His head poked round and a little smile appeared on his face.

John's head was resting on Sherlock's chest, tucked neatly under his chin. His little brother’s arm was slung round the doctors waist and they looked completely at peace.

About bloody time! He would have to go tell Gregory that they didn't have to initiate part two of Operation Johnlock.

He'd just begun retreating when he saw Sherlock's eyes open. He froze, knowing any movement would draw Sherlock's attention, and watched as his little brother blinked a couple times, yawning widely.

Then he sighed disappointedly as his brother's eyes widened in horror and carefully lifted John off of him so not to wake the sleeping doctor. Mycroft watched as his baby brother looked at his flatmate, his love for him so achingly obvious.

He made his escape, knowing Sherlock's eyes and thoughts were focused on something else.

_Well then. Time for part two._

**|/~#~\|**

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" everyone but Mycroft shouted as Sherlock made his way downstairs. Instead he threw him a knowing smile that Sherlock didn't like at all.

"Yes, yes and a happy new year," Sherlock replied, faking impatience. Really, he was in a rather good mood. Which had nothing to do with how he'd woken up this morning. Not at all. He sat down, trying not to look uncomfortable.

Mycroft's smirk was really starting to worry him.

"Merry Christmas!" shouted the others again, this time at John as he appeared from the old, creaky staircase with a bright smile.

"Merry Christmas to you too!" he replied, grinning from ear to ear.

"Did you sleep well?" Mycroft inquired, glancing at Sherlock.

"Wonderfully, thank you!"

"I'm not surprised, considering-" he winced and stopped talking.

Sherlock smiled in victory, pleased that simply kicking Mycroft shut his fat cake hole. He'd have to try that again..

"Behave, boys," their father reprimanded.

They both glared at each other until Mrs Holmes' suggestion.

"Should we open presents now?"

There was a resounding chorus of 'yes's and everyone rushed off to find their presents.

Once all were seated, the present giving began. Mr and Mrs Holmes gave John a watch, Sherlock a 'Detectives through the Ages' book, Mycroft a ‘Politicians through the Ages’ book and Greg an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, dear, we didn't know you were coming," apologised Mrs Holmes.

"It's fine! This lovely breakfast is present enough," Greg replied, grinning as he shovelled more bacon into his mouth.

Next came Mycroft. He gave Sherlock a cuddly dog (that made everyone ‘aww’ as Sherlock cringed). He handed his parents two pairs of woolly scarves and gloves. To Lestrade he gave a brightly coloured guide named ‘How to be a Detective; For Kids’. And, finally, to John he gifted a little book full of childhood picture of Sherlock, much to Sherlock's anger.

Lestrade followed after Mycroft, who received a book entitled ‘How to be an evil genius’ featuring a man who looked scarily like the elder Holmes brother. Mr and Mrs Holmes got a box of chocolates, Sherlock got a deerstalker and John received a Mumford and Sons poster, inspiring John and Greg to start singing their greatest hits.

"Who are Mumford and Sons?" Sherlock asked Mycroft quietly.

"I have no idea but if they sound like those two," he murmured back, nodding at John and Lestrade, "I can't imagine they're very good."

The Holmes brothers shared a chuckle before remembering they were supposed to dislike each other.

Sherlock was up next; He gave his parents a DVD about the LGBT community and welsh miners called ‘Pride’ (hopeful they'd take the hint and realise they weren't going to get a nice daughter-in-law). To John, he gave a mug with the British flag on it. And finally, to Mycroft, he gave a "Get Fit" DVD, which got thrown at him the moment Mycroft realised what it was.

John was last. He gave Mr Holmes a tie and Mrs Holmes a necklace. Mycroft received a new brolly and Sherlock got a complete collection of all the ‘Lord of the Rings’ and ‘The Hobbit’ DVDs (John had been appalled beyond belief when he'd found out Sherlock had never watched either).

After the various 'thank you's and 'you shouldn't haves’ that had both the Holmes brothers eyes rolling, they all sat down to watch a bit of Christmas telly.

The sofa, however, was rather small. So small, that it meant Sherlock and John ended up squashed next to each other with barely any room to move. While everyone relaxed in front of the TV, Sherlock and John sat up, tense and on edge.

Sherlock could feel John with all his senses; the heat radiating off him, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, his loud, quick breaths. He was completely aware of every minuscule movement of John's. Every breath, every twitch, every lick, every blink slowly brought him closer and closer to doing the unthinkable. To closing the short distance and-

Sherlock stood up suddenly, surprising everyone but Mycroft who regarded him with a pitying expression.

He didn't need Mycroft's pity; he needed to get out.

"I-I need to get some air," he said while rushing towards the door, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the house.

"Well, that was strange," Mrs Holmes commented with a frown.

"Very strange indeed," John echoed. 

"I'll go check if he's okay," Mycroft volunteered, standing up to follow Sherlock. He paused by the door to give a meaningful look to Lestrade before stepping into the cold winter air.

Everyone stared at each other in shock. First Sherlock stuttering and rushing outside for no reason and now Mycroft Holmes was checking if people were okay. A Christmas miracle?

John broke the silence.

"I, er, need to use the toilet, so if you'll excuse me."

Lestrade watched John go and then remembered this was a perfect moment to play his part in ‘Operation Johnlock’.

"I'll, um.. Go see if he.. Needs any help," Greg said awkwardly.

Mr and Mrs Holmes raised their eyebrows. He paused for a second before blushing deeply as he realised how odd that sounded. He hurried out after John.

Mrs Holmes looked at her husband.

"What on earth was all that about?"

**|/~#~\|**

John steadied himself against the sink and took a deep breath. 

This was ridiculous. He was behaving like a hormonal teenager all over again. Sherlock's affect on John astounded and, quite frankly, scared him. How did every minuscule movement make his heart beat faster? Make him short of breath? John looked at his reflection in the mirror above the sink and laughed at himself humourlessly. He was a pathetic, cowardly, emotionally constipated-

"John? Are you okay in there?" Greg's voice sounded through the door

"I'm fine!" John lied before splashing his face with water.

_Get a grip, man!_

"Oh, really?" said Greg's sceptical voice

"Yes, really. So you can go back to the-"

"So it's nothing to do with your crush on Sherlock?"

Greg's blunt words echoed through John's mind as his mouth opened and closed. 

He knew? He knew. _He knew!_

"What?" choked John.

"You heard," Greg replied calmly.

"I h-have no idea what you're talking about!"

"You sure about that?"

John didn't know what to say. He felt like he was trapped in a corner with no escape, the bathroom’s four walls seeming to tower over him.

"Mate," Greg started, letting emotion creep into his voice, "will you stop denying it? Just for a minute?"

John was still in shock. His heart was hammering in his ribcage at the knowledge that someone knew. Did they all know? Was he really that obvious?

"It's obvious," Greg continued as if reading his mind, "Well, it is when you know what to look for."

"What is there to look for?" John managed.

"Dilated pupils, sweating, nervousness, pulse acceleration, twitching..."

John creased his brow in confusion.

"How on earth..?" 

"Mycroft," Greg answered simply.

"What?" John said sharply, head darting up from looking at the ground.

"He's organised everything. Why do you think we're all here? I think he's currently talking to Sherlock like we are now," Greg chuckled to himself, "He's calling it 'Operation Johnlock'."

"Sounds like I'm not the one we need to be talking about here," 

Greg blushed, unbeknownst to John.

"Shut up and stop changing the subject,"

John sighed loudly, knowing he couldn't escape this.

"Just say it, John. I'm trying to help."

John unlocked the door with trembling fingers and looked at his friend desperately.

"What the hell am I supposed to say?"

"Just admit it,"

John glared.

"C'mon, all you need to say is you have a teeny, weeny crush," he said, a wide grin threatening to appear.

John looked up a Greg timidly.

"I think it's a bit more than a crush, Greg."

"That’s my boy!" he said, slapping him in the shoulder as a proud smile lit up his face, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

And it wasn't, John thought. _It really wasn't_. A small smile found its way on to his face and he basked in the victory for a second. Then it disappeared.

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

John slumped against the wall.

"It's not as if the idiot likes me back. He doesn't even feel stuff like that!"

Greg smiled slyly.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. Give Mycroft a few minutes. He can work wonders when he wants to,"

John raised his eyebrows, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Can he now?"

Greg instantly turned red, making John smile even more

"I didn't-It's not like-I didn't mean- Oh shut up!"

John laughed at Greg, glad he wasn't the only one crushing on an unfeeling genius.

**|/~#~\|**

Sherlock felt tears prickling in his eyes as he rushed to hide behind a massive tree. This was pathetic, even by his standards. Crying behind a tree for a man he could never have? He'd laugh if he weren't so utterly miserable.

He looked around his hiding spot, tears running freely down his face. He often came here when he was upset. It was where he and Mycroft used to play and talk, when they were children. When everything was simple. He traced his and Mycroft's initials that were carved into a massive oak tree with his finger, biting his lip to keep from crying out.

He rested his forehead on it, breathed deeply and tried to get a hold of himself.

Just breathe, Sherlock. Breathe. Everything is going to be okay said a voice in his head, a voice that sounded surprisingly like Mycroft. God, what would his older brother say if he could see him now?

"Oh, baby brother, what have you gotten yourself into?"

Sherlock spun round to face the voice so quickly he lost his footing. He fell but was caught by strong arms that gripped his shoulders tightly. Sherlock looked up to the face of his big brother for a long second before doing something he hasn't done since childhood; He hugged him.

Mycroft froze for a second before his heart took hold and he hugged his brother back. Sherlock rested his head against his shoulder, weeping silently against it, taking comfort in his brothers warmth. The older brother stiffly rubbed Sherlock's back like he used to do when he suffered with nightmares, many years ago.

"Shhhh, Lockie, it's okay," Mycroft whispered into Sherlock's mop of hair, trying his best to comfort him.

They stayed like that for a few long minutes before finally breaking apart. Mycroft sat down, leaning against the tree trunk before pulling his brother down with him until his head was resting on Mycroft's lap.

Sherlock sniffed slightly, feeling slightly better. Slightly.

"What am I going to do, My?"

"That's up to you and John, Lockie" Mycroft said, raising his hand to stroke Sherlock's soft, black curls. Lord, it's been awhile since he'd done this.

"What do you mean?" came Sherlock's confused voice.

"I am correct in assuming you have feeling's for the good doctor?"

"Like you didn't already know," he replied miserably.

Mycroft ignored him.

"Then there is one obvious solution. Tell him."

Sherlock shot up from Mycroft knee.

"Are you joking?"

Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

"When have I ever joked?"

"You used to, before you became a miserable, posh git,"

"I don't believe they were well received, even back then,"

"That's because they always made fun of me,"

"Because you're easy to make fun of!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak.

"Sherlock," Mycroft sighed, "childish squabbling isn't going to solve anything. Just tell him."

"It's not as simple as that!" Sherlock said sadly, turning his body so he was sitting next to Mycroft, leaning against the trunk.

"Really? Why not?"

"Because.. It just is."

"You're scared."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Okay fine, you're not!"

They sat in silence before Mycroft broke it.

"Chicken," he coughed into his hand.

Sherlock shoved him playfully, a small smile on his face. He had missed this.

Mycroft looked at him from the corner of his eye.

"Sherlock, I'm trying to help."

"Telling John will not help in the slightest!" Sherlock snapped, his good mood draining from him in seconds.

Mycroft looked at him carefully

"And why is that?"

"Because he doesn't feel the same way!"

"Are we really going to go through this again? I thought you'd learnt this the first time but evidently not."

"What?" Sherlock frowned

Mycroft turned to him, a twinkle in his eye that Sherlock hadn't seen in awhile.

"A deduction lesson," he replied with glee, standing up as he said it.

Sherlock groaned but Mycroft carried on regardless.

"Now, what are the tell-tale signs of a person in love?"

The detective glared up at his brother.

"I'm not in love!"

"And pigs fly, brother mine," Mycroft smirked. "Now, play the game."

Sherlock grumbled to himself but complied.

"Dilated pupils, sweating, elevated pulse, twitching, nervousness," he listed in an almost robotic voice.

"Good, now what does John do when he is with you?"

"Nothing!" he spat

"Wrong!" Mycroft answered

Sherlock looked at his brother incredulously

"What?"

"I've been watching him very carefully, Sherlock," he said, bending down to his brothers level. "When you're in the room his pupils dilate, his fingers start twitching, he breathes deeper and he acts like a schoolgirl with a crush,"

Sherlock blinked, confused. He looked back through his memories of John, searching for what Mycroft was referring too. And suddenly he could see everything; the looks, the nervous twitches, the small touches.

_But it couldn't be true... Could it?_

"I-I don't believe you.."

Mycroft sighed, before looking at something behind the tree. A small smile appeared on his face.

"Then ask him yourself."

Sherlock's mouth went dry. He shot up and stumbled slightly, looking round, hoping it wasn't who he thought it was.

"Hello, Sherlock," John said quietly, looking at the ground. Several meters behind him, Lestrade whooped and pulled a massive thumbs up.

"Hello, John," Sherlock almost whispered, looking at his shoes.

"I'll give you two some privacy," Mycroft said smirking, before walking a couple steps in Lestrade's direction.

"Oh, and one more thing!"

He stopped walking to face John and Sherlock.

"Please skip the whole denial thing. It's rather tedious."

He managed to add one more smirk before he -and with no other word to describe it- swaggering off to join Lestrade.

"Pompous prick," Sherlock muttered under his breath, causing John to chuckle tensely.

"So.." John started

Silence.

"I, er.." John tried again.

More silence.

"I don't, um, really know what to say.."

Sherlock looked up for a brief second to find John was under a meter away from him, looking nervously at him and closing the distance. He looked into John's deep blue eyes and found himself lost. Sparkles danced around in the endless shades of blue, their perfection taking his breath away.

John swallowed, inching ever closer

"But I know what to do, if you'll let me."

John licked his lips, eyes searching Sherlock's face, and before long they were just centimeters apart.

Sherlock looked from John's eyes to his mouth, knowing what he was about to do. His heart crashed around in his rib cage, as if it were trying to escape to the man that truly held it.

"I'd be honoured, John," Sherlock whispered back.

They looked at each other for a long second before John closed the gap and kissed him. The kiss was only short, just a brush of lips, but it felt more than that. Sherlock's brain was silent, the roller-coaster of thoughts slamming to a stop, sending his body and heart into turmoil. Every nerve, every atom, every cell seemed electric. His body was tingling with emotion, as if it were on fire, and, finally, Sherlock felt at peace.

They parted a second late and simply looked into each other's joyful eyes, smiling. The moment was broken by a shout from several meters away.

"ABOUT BLOODY TIME!" yelled Lestrade, grinning proudly. John smiled and Sherlock rolled his eyes but secretly both were thinking the same thing.

About bloody time was a very good way to phrase it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooooooooo, did you enjoy reading?? I really really really hope you did <3 Please leave a kudos/comment I'd love to hear what you think!  
> The next chapter will be a little epilogue probably posted the day before Sherlock series 4 starts :)  
> Have an amazing day!  
> Sophie xx


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys and a Happy New Year!  
> Final chapter so I really hope you enjoy reading <33  
> Sophie xx

"Make sure to call us, dear. You never call, and it's extremely vexing!" scolded Mrs Holmes.

"Yes, mother, I promise I will," lied Sherlock, smiling pleasantly.

His mother looked at him skeptically.

"Don't worry, Mrs Holmes, I'll make sure he does," John said, giving a pointed look at Sherlock.

"Oh, thank you, John!"

"It's fine, Mrs Holmes. We'll see you soon!” he said before him, Sherlock and Mycroft stepped into a car.

"Bye, my dears!" she called.

They all waved back until she was out of view. Then they sat in amiable silence, all three looking out the window contently, John and Sherlock’s hands laced together. They’d tried to hide that under the detectives folded up coat but, going by Mycroft’s smirk, they hadn't been successful. John finally spoke up.

"Mycroft, I would like to thank y-"

"Save it, John, I was doing it for my own gain,"

John looked at him, confused.

"The sexual tension nearly stifled me every time I walked into that darned flat,"

John huffed a laugh before continuing.

"But really, Mycroft, thank you. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

Mycroft inclined his head as pulled up outside 221b and John got out. Sherlock got out too but waited by the car.

"You go on ahead, I need to speak to Mycroft."

Sherlock turned to Mycroft, his eyes soft.

"I mean it too, Mycroft. I don't know how to thank you,"

"I do,” Mycroft replied, scrunching up his nose, ”Stop talking before prolonged exposure to sentiment makes me grievously ill."

Sherlock grinned and nearly closed the door before pausing.

"Oh, and just one more thing,"

Mycroft raised his eyebrows, wondering what else there was.

"If I can do it, you can do it,"

The elder Holmes frowned.

"Pardon?"

Sherlock looked at him knowingly.

"Lestrade."

Mycroft made a choking sound and his neck tinged red.

"Sherlock, I don't know what you're talki-that's completely absur-have you taken something?" Mycroft stuttered, pointedly ignoring Sherlock's smirk.

"Do we have to go through another deductions lesson to remind you of the signs of lo-"

"Get out, Sherlock!"

Sherlock laughed before slamming the car door leaving a flustered Mycroft with an undeniable blush painted on his face. 

The detective made his way back to the flat, happiness bubbling inside him, giving him the bizarre urge to giggle excitedly. 

He listened to every creak of the stairs, every muffled voice through the walls, every rumble of London’s ongoing traffic outside. He listened to all the noises he heard daily before and wondered how they could feel so utterly different now.

A screeching interrupted his thought. 

“Oh Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson cried, running up to him, flapping her arms in a ridiculous fashion. John followed after her, smiling. His smile widened as he saw Sherlock and he rolled his eyes teasingly.

“Alright, calm down, Mrs Hudson,” he said, batting away her hands as she tried to squeeze his cheek. 

“I’m just so happy!” she said, ignoring Sherlock’s irritated tone. “Oh, this calls for some tea and biscuits,” 

She skipped off, giggling to herself, leaving the two men grinning widely.

“Well, we’ve certainly made someone happy,” John said, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall behind him. He had some crumpled pieces of paper clutched in his hand.

“We have indeed,” Sherlock agreed before frowning, “what have you got in your hand?”

John made an exaggerated shocked expression.

“You mean to tell me you don't know?”

“Shut up and hand it to me.” 

Smirking in a way that sent the detectives heart beating quicker than normal, John passed it over. Immediately, Sherlock felt the paper between his fingers and recognized it as pages from John’s drawing pad.

“The last pages. The ones you tore out.”

“I didn't want you finding them,” John shrugged, “Guess it doesn't matter now.” 

Slowly, Sherlock flipped the pages over in his hand and was met with an incredibly life like drawings of him. Some were of him mixing chemicals, other were of him with his hands clasped under his chin like a prayer. One was even him cuddling up to his bee teddy. 

The one thing all drawings had in common was the fact they had all been drawn with love. Every detail had been captured, every imperfection had been made beautiful. Sherlock's breath caught.

“Oh, John,” he whispered, looking at the smiling doctor through glazed eyes. 

“Shhh,” John replied, pressing a finger against sherlock’s lips that were eventually replaced with his own.

**|/#~#\|**

Mycroft, after talking giving himself a good talking too, had now calmed down. Well, he thought he had until he reached for his phone and found his heart hammering in his ribcage. Taking a deep, shaky breath he clicked on Gregory’s name.

_If Sherlock can do it, I can do it._

_Sent to: Gregory_  
_Would you be interested in dinner at 7:00pm tonight?_  
_MH_

**Message from: Gregory**  
**About bloody time ;)**  
**GL**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, i really hope you've enjoyed both this chapter and the entire story! I don't think this is the best story I've ever written nor ever will write but I've had so much fun writing, posting and seeing your responses so thank you so so so much <333  
> All thats left now is to wish you a Happy New Year and and hope that you enjoy the new series of Sherlock!  
> Which comes out.  
> Tomorrow.  
> 24 hours exactly from this moment.  
> Oh my goodness.  
> Sophie xx  
> p.s. i am literally going to die of excitement i cannot wait for s4

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, how did you find it? I would greatly appreciate a comment/constructive criticism/ kudos to let me know how I've done and how I could improve!  
> As to my posting scheduled, I started posting on the 1st of December and there will be a new chapter every three or four days (until it gets to the end of the story, where there will be chapters posted the next day).  
> The chapter lengths will vary but I'll warn you, the second to last chapter (which will be posted on the 25th) is quite long! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and have a lovely day/night xx  
> Sophie xx


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